Thursday, January 13, 2011

disengaged: not even a clever title

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I read the bestseller "What to Expect When You are Expecting" until I knew each of the "nine month" descriptions word for word. The dogeared copy was my only link to the truth that things that I couldn't watch from the outside were actually changing on the inside. Each monthly trip to the OB-GYN was a highlight and a benchmark. But still the long wait for her arrival felt distant, like a walk down a creepy long hallway in a dream.

Well, she arrived. I survived. And, now, a couple decades later, she's leaving. And, I'm good with that. I've been ready for a while for her to strengthen her wings with the resistance of the wind. I'm eager to see how she will fly. So, that being said, what is going on inside of me?

My daughter was engaged about a month ago and since that event came about, something has been growing inside of me. I cannot seem to figure out what it is. It's painful beyond much I've endured in a long time and it's draining me of most of my creativity. I'm having a hard time expressing myself in writing, I can't seem to even do a simple Facebook Status Update. Even as I write this, I am holding back tears. I'm having a hard time expressing myself in speech. Yes, you read that correctly. Jackie Jean the talking machine is without words.

Even as I write this, I can't take you anywhere. It's like "writers block" but it's everywhere. I long for someone to tell me what it is. I wish so badly that someone would reassure me--that it will pass. I'm tired from not sleeping well. I'm lonely from not being able to connect to anyone beyond a few moments at a time. I have become isolated and I can't get out. And I'm scared. I'm scared because I have a history with depression.

Yes, the D-word. Sometime after my daughter Molly died, I was diagnosed with depression. Which, quite frankly, has always seemed a little redundant. I mean, holy crap, I woke up and Molly didn't--of course I was depressed. I've always wondered how much medical schooling that particular Psychiatrist really needed for THAT diagnosis.

I'm scared that it will come back. I don't want to walk that long creepy hallway. The way out of that hallway led me down into rooms that were in many ways worse. I want to be where I was before this came up. The weird thing is, my curiosity to understand why I am here may be what is holding me here. Perhaps if I give up trying to understand why I am here, I will be able to get out. Do you think?

Well, there is not a book called "What to Expect When Your Not Sure What Your Expecting", but there is another book that is calling out to me. It may be the only link to the truth that what is going on inside is not going to completely change me. It's a best seller in multiple countries and I'm hoping that if I keep looking at the descriptions and if I continue to learn each page word by word, it's power will sustain me.